Jenga
by ZombieOutlaw
Summary: "Life is like a game of that Jenga thing, you spend some time carefully trying not to knock over the tower and then, all of a sudden, it all comes crumbling down only for you to pick up the pieces and start all over again."


**AN: Firstly I would like to say a thank you to you for clicking on this story I really do appreciate it and if you have time to review, well that would be super!**

**Secondly, I would like to say that I know that I have written Daryl a little out of character in one seen in particular but it is not too far fetched and I think it works. I did this because of this quote from Norman Reedus: "Sophia represented this other way of life to Daryl" and well i think the loss of that would effect Daryl in some way shape or form.**

**And finally, Daryl's character has been summed up by Norman as "a guy who needs a hug but your too scared to hug him and if you do, he would stab you" so I tried to incorporate that into the story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they are property of (insert long list of names here), I am merely playing them. I am not making any money from this and I promise to put them back when I have done.**

**Warnings: Quite dark and angst-y but nothing too depressing. Also slight OOC in the middle.  
>-<strong>  
>"Have you ever noticed how some days in this hell seem even more nefarious than others?" mused Daryl under his breath. Sometimes he just lays at night contemplating this statement and his brothers explanation that had caused him to think it up, and that was exactly what he was doing right then. "<em>Life is like a game of that Jenga thing,<em>" Merle had said to him once, long before all this mayhem had arisen, "_you spend some time carefully trying not to knock over the tower and then, all of a sudden, it all comes crumbling down only for you to pick up the pieces and start all over again_". As a young boy who admired every little detail about his seemingly commendable older brother, he had taken that statement to heart only for it to be punched out of there the day he shattered to false façade that he had surrounded his brother in. But Daryl could still remember it clear as day, like he had only been told it yesterday.

After he had realised what a true jackass his brother was, he didn't really believe in the words his brother had muttered to him that day in the kitchen when he had been seven, that is until planet earth got turned into a giant ball of sin and evil and Daryl could sum up life there any better. Now to him, survival was like a game of Jenga, his new life was like a tower waiting to fall down and it finally did collapsed, yesterday in fact, when that lifeless girl was finally found. And he just needed now to pick up the fragments of the past and build it up once more for it to yet again end in tragedy. When that tragedy whorls strike again, he didn't know and that was what worried him the most.

Poor Carol. Daryl may be slightly little minded but the one thing he truly did understand inside and out was suffering and how it effects people. He wanted to comfort her desperately almost as if she was a fragile vase not wrapped in bubble wrap ready to smash in a accident if he didn't help her. Yet, at the same time, he didn't want to open himself up to her in case he let her in too close that she tries to wipe away the resentment that had been tattooed over him like a wall. Daryl Dixon was very much a closed book locked in a cupboard found in a room in the middle of nowhere. There was no way for a person to see that unless he lead them there. Daryl was not stupid either, he new that the closer he got to someone, the more of himself he would reveal. The question wasn't whether or not he should comfort Carol, it was instead about him, if he was ready to let someone see the damaged pages of his life or not.

He was all of a sudden brought out of his thoughts by the sound of rustling and the clawing of fingernails against his tent door, it took him almost no time at all to realise the potential life threatening situation he was in. More abruptly than he expected him self to move, he began to frantically search for his trusty crossbow. That blessed thing was his protection in this deranged asylum. When he couldn't seem to find the smooth handle of his weapon, that was when the fear sunk in. The blow of loosing someone who had almost been like a beacon of hope to him seemed to had taken a huge chunk from the invincibleness he usually had when he faced a walker. For the first time since that time long ago when he first got lost in those woods, he felt helpless. His breath quickened as he heard the near silent moan that had transpired from the walker outside of his tent. His eyes shot over to the zip while his hands continued the search, praying to God for the first time in what felt like a lifetime that it wouldn't work out how to open the barrier restricting the predator from its prey.

He almost cried aloud when he found his crossbow under a pair of screwed up jeans and impetuously turned to the tent door, cross bow at the ready. As he reached forward to pull open the zip, he heard to sounds of something rigid coming into contact with the walker's head. And a grunt as the person lifted the item up and swung again. And again. And once more. It wasn't till he heard the sound of panting that he unzipped the zip and crawled out of his cocoon like tent. He came close to the retched body of his attacker as he pulled himself over it in an attempt to get out the tent. He gave a quick nod to his saviour who was hunched over double with their hands gripping their knees. "Don't mention it, man" T-Dog responded. "Just give me a hand carrying this over to the pile"

Daryl was reluctant at first to just toss aside the weapon he was desperately searching for in his time of need but quickly agreed when he realised that they were starting to draw a crowd. Carol, he noted, wasn't part of this crowd. When he returned, he didn't go back to his tent. Instead he sat on the slightly chilly log and tended the burning embers of the fire to try and prevent it from going out like he tried with Sophia.

"Hey" he heard Carol's weak voice mutter from behind him.

"Hey" he returned without even turning to look at her and he continue to let his eyes stare down at the now small flames of the fire.

"I heard what happened" She clambered over the log to take her place next to him, she too starting into the fire. "Are you alright."

"Of course I'm alright!" snapped Daryl, already regretting his words as soon as he had spoken them. "Sorry."

They fell quiet then, both relishing in being do close to someone,making comfort from each other. He looked over to her and finally, he knew what he needed to do.

"You know, when I was young," Daryl started unsure. He felt uncomfortable. He wanted to run away and hide. He knew just by looking at he swollen red eyes that he needed to do this. For the both of them. "Merle once said that life was like a Jenga game, we try our best not to make the tower fall but it eventually it does and then eventually we all need to pick up the pieces and start again."  
>She looked over at him and smiled slightly, "I'm surprised that came out of the mouth of Merle Dixon of all people." She said bleakly and without no implied humour.<p>

"My point is you have to pick you self up and carry on, find something worth living for."

When he had finished she turned to look at him with tears in her eyes, "You know, when we were at the church I-I asked God if he could punish me and not her, and if you think about it, he did. She's free. I'm not. I wish I were though."

Daryl let out a sigh, "Don't say that. You can't leave me too." and with that she placed her hand on his knee and squeezed. " you know earlier on today, with the walker. I couldn't find my crossbow at first. I was shit scared, panicked even, thought I was a gonna. But I picked up the pieces and readied myself. I probably would of killed it but I guess I'm glad T-Dog helped me." She hung from every word he said much like, Daryl noticed, himself with Merle. Hopefully this time she won't realise who he really is and despise him. "My point being, it's feels nice to know you can rely on someone."

He felt relieved. He was finally letting someone read those damaged pages in that closet book. The whole idea of opening himself up to someone before was unthinkable but now, he was glad he did. It felt like Atlas if his punishment was over and he got to stop holding up the sky. He felt truly unrestricted for the first time in a long time.

"Daryl?"

"Yea."

"Would you help me pick up the pieces?"

Her answer came when he gently squeezed her hand on his knee.  
><strong>-<strong>

**AN: I know it's not my best so please don't be harsh!**


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